


all that you've conquered

by whimsicalimages



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Classism, Dancing Lessons, Derek "Nursey" Nurse is Unchill, Drinking, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Racism, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalimages/pseuds/whimsicalimages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Drunk Nursey doesn’t write checks that sober Nursey can’t cash,” Nursey tells him very seriously.</p><p>Or: William J. Poindexter’s sister is getting married, which means, among other things, that he has to learn how to dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all that you've conquered

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags - though racism/classism/homophobia is very minimal in this fic, it is present. 
> 
> Wow, that was a lot of fun to write! Thanks to [A](http://hellaarabella.tumblr.com), [M](http://productivity-is-irrelevant.tumblr.com), and [J](http://sighsaggressively.tumblr.com) for cheerleading/editing. Title comes from "[The Ratio of Freckles to Stars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iqi5lL1wVcw)" by Halou, which is probably the most accurate song for this pairing in the world. Characters come from [Check Please](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com), which is amazing and not mine.

It begins in October 2015, when he’s skyping his sister – more accurately, she’s talking at him and he’s half-listening and half-working on his Comp32 project – and in the middle of complaining about how their parents are rearranging the furniture _again,_ she idly says, “I think Brian is going to propose to me.”

He barely has the presence of mind to hit save before maximizing the Skype window to use his full attention on staring at Caroline. “What,” he says.

“I think that Brian, my boyfriend who I’ve been dating for three years now, is going to propose to me,” Caroline repeats, slowly.

“Brian, as in, ‘Brian Tucker Greene II’ Brian,” Dex says.

“I haven’t dated any other Brians, so yes, that one,” Caroline says.

“Are you,” Dex starts, words coming slowly. “Are you gonna say yes?”

Caroline tilts her head. “I love him,” she says, as if that answers his question.

“Ah, I see,” Dex says, even though he doesn’t, really. “Good luck… with that?”

Caroline huffs. “Thanks, little bro,” she says, then returns to talking about whatever strange thing their mother has done with the spare mattresses in the basement. Dex gratefully returns to his code.

-

He pretty much forgets the conversation until, a month later, Caroline sends a picture of an engagement ring to the Poindexter family grouptext with a row of exclamation points.

Rachel, Dex’s younger sister, immediately responds with an “OMG CONGRATS” and his mom is probably frantically calling Caroline now, so Dex types out “Congrats Caroline :)” before his happily-married brother can type something nauseatingly optimistic and goes back to his homework.

His phone starts buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call. He thinks about it for a moment before sighing and picking it up. “Dearest, darlingest little brother mine,” Caroline says. “Brian is making an honest woman of me. The wedding’s gonna be huge, because we have like a zillion cousins, and he’s got all his parents’ weird rich friends.”

“That’s nice,” Dex says. He’s pretty sure that’s what you’re supposed to say.

“You have to bring a plus one,” Caroline says.

“I don’t _have_ to do anything,” Dex says, wincing as he feels himself revert to being fourteen and indignant about Caroline getting the best Christmas gifts from their parents.

“It’s my wedding,” Caroline says. “So, actually, you do have to. I mean, feel free to bring one of your handsome hockey friends, if you can’t find a date.”

That could mean any of them. “Which one?” Dex says, before he can stop himself.

Mercifully, Caroline ignores any and all implications. “I don’t know, someone who can handle all the pretentious rich people who Brian is related to. That kid who went to Andover, maybe?”

“Oh, Christ,” Dex says.

“He’ll fit right in, and you won’t have to brood alone by the champagne all night.”

Dex puts his head in his hands. Of course. “I’m definitely not bringing Nursey as my plus one,” he says. He doesn’t even want to begin to contemplate the words “Nursey” and “date” in the same sentence.

“Suit yourself,” Caroline says. “But you still gotta find someone. Rachel’s got her boyfriend and Nick’ll obviously bring his wife.”

Damn his siblings and their happy relationships. “Can’t I just skip that part?”

“Nope, no excuses. The best wedding gift is seeing you suffer, and you’ll have to dance anyway because everyone in my wedding party will have to dance at some point probably. Anyway, thanks for the congrats! I’ve gotta call Mom back, she’s been hyperventilating at me for the past hour.”

“I don’t even know how to dance,” Dex manages, but he only gets the dialtone in response.

-

The invitation comes a week after he comes back from winter break to start training. He gets about as far as ‘You are cordially invited’ in gold lettering before he has to put the card face down on his desk and take some deep breaths. Admittedly, he’s still having a hard time connecting ‘his sister who used to whisper into his ear about sharks before shoving him overboard into the Atlantic in the middle of April’ with ‘his sister who’s getting married to some rich fuck with a second house in the Hamptons, which said rich fuck refers to as the _Hamps_.’

He likes Brian well enough, but – it’s a lot. He’s got homework and practice and games to deal with, anyway, so the time to think about how adult Caroline has become is limited.

However, three days after Dex’s invite comes, Nursey wanders into the Haus kitchen holding a familiar gold-embossed envelope.

“Hey, Poindexter,” Nursey says. Dex turns around from where he’s playing kitchen helper for Bitty in hopes of getting first dibs on pie, sees the envelope, and freezes. Nursey continues, “Don’t you have a sister named Caroline? I think I just got invited to her wedding.”

Holster likes to tell him that he probably murdered someone in a past life, and Dex is beginning to suspect he’s right. “I do, and she’s getting married, so it’s possible,” he says. Although who knows how you got invited, he doesn’t say.

Nursey blinks. Dex braces himself. “That’s chill,” Nursey says. There it is. “I didn’t know Brian was dating your sister. He’s a family friend. My mom knows his dad from college, or something.”

“Well,” Dex says. “They’ve been together for three years, so I guess he thought it was the right time to tie the knot.”

“That’s lovely, Dex,” Bitty says. “Congratulations to her.”

“Thanks,” Dex says. Maybe Bitty will try and send her a pie and Dex can steal it. Caroline doesn’t deserve pie.

Nursey just watches him for a while. “Do you approve of him?” he asks eventually.

“Sure,” Dex says, thrown into honesty. “My sister says she loves the guy, and he’s seemed fine when I’ve met him. If he makes her happy, then I’m happy.” He shrugs.

“That’s good,” Nursey says, then smirks. “Very adult, Dexy.”

Dex rolls his eyes. “I’m not the child, out of the two of us,” he says.

“If you’re about to start arguing in my kitchen again, there will be consequences,” says Bitty, waving his spatula menacingly.

Nursey raises his arms in placation. “Not arguing, I was only making an observation,” he says. He stopped telling Bitty to ‘chill’ ever since Bitty put a moratorium on the phrase in the kitchen except for recipe-related instances. Dex wishes he could do that, except across the whole campus.

“Anyway, if it’s the Greenes throwing it, it’ll be mad nice,” Nursey continues. “Probably at one of their ranch houses or something. Fancy-as-fuck catering, open bar, slow-dancing, the works.”

Sounds like his whole family will turn out in their best clothes and still look shabby and out of place. Dex frowns. At least Brian’s paying for almost all of it.

He can feel his frown deepen. He’ll have to rent a tux; he hasn’t worn one in years, but the invite said formal and he’s going to be part of the wedding party.

“Sounds like a dream,” Bitty says. “I think I’d want one of those big weddings.”

Dex snorts. “Marry rich,” he says.

Nursey grins. “I’m sure that’s in the cards for our man Bittle, here,” he says.

“I have no idea what you’re implying, Mr. Nurse,” Bitty says, prim. “But I’ll thank you to get out of my kitchen. You’re disturbing the pies.”

Dex thinks for a moment, but decides not to ask. Let Bitty have his secrets.

Nursey sticks his tongue out but spins on his heel and makes for the door, and then stops and looks back. “Dude, the dancing is totally gonna be ballroom style, waltzing and shit,” he says. “You know how to dance, Poindexter?”

Dex is saved from having to answer because at that moment, Nursey trips over a chair and knocks over the structurally-unsound tower of solo cups in the corner of the kitchen.

“Out!” Bitty yells, pointing at the door.

Nursey goes. Dex exhales, relieved.

-

Naturally, it doesn’t end there, because Dex probably did commit some sort of heinous crime in a previous life. Maybe Ransom and Holster’s Ouija board could tell him.

“Dex,” Nursey says, leaning on his doorway. “Hey, Dexy, do you know how to dance?”

“Leave me alone, Nurse, I’ve got homework to do,” Dex says, keeping his eyes on the screen.

“C’mon, bro,” Nursey says. “I’m sure your sister’s gonna set you up with one of her bridesmaids and you’ll have to not make a fool of yourself so either you know how to dance or you’ve gotta learn.”

“Nurse, shut up,” Dex says. “It’s not your fucking problem.”

Nursey is silent for a few, blessed minutes. “It’s really weighing on you, huh,” he says, not really making it into a question. “The wedding.”

Dex sighs, gives up on his work for now and turns to face Nursey. The light in the hall is outlining Nursey’s hair in gold, and Dex has to squint a little to look at his douchey, handsome face. “It’s just weird,” he finally says.

“Bad-weird or good-weird?” Nursey asks. “Or probably-fine-but-I’m-still-kind-of-in-shock-weird?”

Dex throws a pen at him. Nursey, being an asshole, catches it and deprives Dex of the satisfaction of seeing it bounce off his head. “Probably the last one,” he admits. “She’s my sister, so it’s still pretty hard to think of her as someone with her own life that exists outside our family, and not, like, ‘my sister who used to short-sheet my bed when I annoyed her,’ you know? I know you don’t know, because you don’t have siblings, but – it’s weird.”

“I’ll take your word for it, man,” Nursey says. “It was weird enough when my cousin was getting married, it’s gotta be even more strange when you’re closer to the person. At least there’ll be an open bar, right? For when you don’t catch the bouquet and have to drown your sorrows at having nobody to pledge your gingery troth to.”

“‘Pledge your troth,’ who even are you,” Dex says, instead of tackling literally any other part of that statement.

Nursey shrugs. “Can’t stifle the poetry,” he says, wiggling his fingers. He lapses into quiet for a moment, then gasps dramatically. “Oh my god, this means I get to meet the whole Poindexter clan! I mean, your mom already loves me, but now I get to charm your sisters who have only seen me from afar, demonstrating my awesome hockey skills.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Dex says, and throws another pen. This time, it connects high on Nursey’s forehead. Dex is content with that.

-

The week before Valentine’s Day, Ransom gets dumped by his most recent fling, so they throw a combo anti-Valentine’s-and-also-Nursey’s-birthday party the night before. It’s ludicrously cold outside, but in deference to midterms they’ve only invited their actual friends and not half the population of Samwell, so only people they like show up.

“Sometimes I just feel like Dr. Hartley doesn’t even really want to explain anything,” Chowder says at half past midnight. He’s bright red from three beers, gesticulating wildly. “Why’d he go into teaching if he hates explaining things?”

Dex groans. “I know. He just wants us to magically get it,” he says.

Their midterm project is due on Thursday and they’ve both been spending hours in the computer lab breaking their brains on it, although it hasn’t yet reached the stage where they have to spend the night. Dex doesn’t think Bitty would forgive him if he let Chowder forego team breakfast.

“I was gonna go see a movie with Cait and catch the $6-before-6 discount, but now I have to go to office hours,” Chowder says, sounding alarmingly gloomy. Dex is a bit too tipsy to handle sad Chowder with any kind of grace.

Fortunately, as he opens his mouth to say something he hopes will be comforting, Nursey’s head pops up between them.

“I found you! My two best friends in the entire world,” Nursey says, beaming and slinging an arm around both of them. “How are you enjoying this fête in my honor?”

Dex smiles in spite of himself. Nursey had told him once, very late at night in the library when he’d probably thought Dex was too engrossed in his work to pay him any attention, that he never used to have parties as a kid because he hadn’t had many friends. Presumably the popularity came with the ‘chill.’ And the ridiculous transformation into some sort of male model, which, according to Facebook pictures, took place during puberty. Not that Dex has looked. Nursey doesn’t have enough of his privacy settings turned on.

Whatever. Dex is glad he’s having fun.

Chowder’s face lights up. “It’s great, Nursey!” he says. “I don’t know if I said it earlier, but I want to say it again, happy birthday! You’re old now!”

“You said it like, at least twelve times earlier,” Nursey says. “But thanks, bro!”

Chowder sighs happily. “It’s because I just really, really want you to be happy, Nursey,” he says. “You’re the best! You two are my best friends in the entire world, too!”

“That’s adorable,” Dex says, but drunk Chowder has the attention span of a two-month-old puppy and he’s already spotted someone he wants to hug on the other side of the room and has started weaving towards them.

“It’s true,” Nursey says. “Chowder is adorable. The most adorable. Just – the most.”

“You’re so wasted right now,” Dex says, but it comes out fonder and less mocking than he really intends. It’s fine, it’s Nursey’s birthday. Officially, as of half an hour ago.

“Oh! I remembered what I came over here to say. Besides, like, thanks for being here and shit, since this is probably the best birthday party I’ve had maybe definitely ever,” Nursey says. “And I kind of love everyone in this bar, you know? It’s so chill. The chillest.”

“Nursey,” Dex prompts.

“Right, okay, what I wanted to say,” Nursey says. His face is disconcertingly close to Dex’s face and his breath smells like Lardo’s spiked hot chocolate. “Poindexter. Dexy. William, my favorite tiny, tiny ginger. I’m here – to make you an offer. If you don’t want me to go to this wedding, I won’t go. My moms just got invited because Mom knows Brian Greene Senior from like, Harvard Law Review or whatever, and they can’t invite Mom without inviting Mama and basically that means I got an invite too but it’s not, like, a big deal. I’ve only met Greene Junior a couple times.” He makes a face. “On boats. Usually on boats. We, the rich people, love boats.”

“First of all, we’re the same size,” Dex begins.

“No,” Nursey says, turning it into four syllables. “You’re tiny. You are a very small – gingerman.”

“We’re the _same size_ ,” Dex repeats. “And you got an invite, so you’re welcome at the wedding. I’m not such a dick that I’d uninvite you, Nurse. You’ll be fine as long as you don’t knock over the wedding cake.”

It’ll be a disaster, but – Caroline was right. At least he’ll have company at the open bar, even if that company is Nursey, knocking over the champagne and still looking like a menswear ad.

On second thought, maybe he should’ve taken the out. Jesus Christ.

Nursey rubs his cheek on Dex’s shoulder like a giant cat. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Poindexter,” Nursey says.

“Ooh, what did he say?” Ransom says, appearing next to them along with Holster and Bitty.

Nursey grins. “He said it would be ‘swawesome if I could come to his sister’s wedding – the one I was also invited to because I know the groom – and that my amazing presence will greatly improve the scenery,” he says. 

“That’s really not what I said,” Dex says.

“A wedding? I love weddings!” Holster says. “Why didn’t we get an invite, Dex?”

“It’s my sister’s wedding, not mine, and she has no idea who you are,” Dex says.

Ransom and Holster get simultaneous looks of triumph on their faces. Dex will never not be a little creeped out by the synchronization. “So if it _were_ your wedding you’d definitely invite us,” Ransom says. “We’d totally be your men of honor, bro.”

“Bro,” Holster says. “We could plan such a sick fucking bachelor party.”

“I’m glad you’ll be there to keep each other company, then,” Bitty says, breaking through the Ransom-and-Holster tag team. “Weddings can get so emotional, it’s nice to have a friend around.”

“Maybe,” Dex says. He’s stuck on the idea of a bachelor party planned by Ransom and Holster; he’s pretty sure it’s considered bad form to preempt your wedding by dying of alcohol poisoning.

Nursey sniffs. “Whatever, the point is, Dex and I are gonna have an awesome time. And,” he turns to Dex, leering, and says, “Since you’ve chosen to let me enhance this amazing occasion with the pleasure of my company, and since I am magnanin – magmanim – a magnanimous fucking person, I, Derek Malik Nurse, volunteer to teach you how to dance so that you can impress all the wonderful ladies at your sister’s wedding.”

“You really don’t have to,” Dex says, and it only sounds half-strangled. Ransom and Holster are both shaking with laughter.

“Y’all should probably get him home,” Bitty says. “He must be pretty drunk to make that offer.”

“Bitty, Bitty, Bitty,” Nursey says, shaking his head very slowly. “Firstly, I’m not that drunk, at all, because I can hold my fucking – my fucking liquor.”

Dex huffs out a laugh. “Obviously not,” he says. He thinks Chowder was supposed to be on Nursey Patrol, but that always seems to fly out the window around 1AM.

Nursey whirls on him and jabs a finger into his chest. “Secondly, Poindexter: drunk Nursey doesn’t write checks that sober Nursey can’t cash,” Nursey tells him very seriously.

Dex is pretty sure there is no alternate universe where the idea of Nursey teaching him to waltz isn’t terrifying for at least eight thousand different reasons. “I don’t need dance lessons,” he says.

“It’s gonna be fancy,” Nursey says. “It’ll be fancy AF, Dexy. You need to know how to dance for real. Brian Tucker Greene II can dance, like, really dance. Real dancing. I’ve seen him.”

“Besides, Dex,” Holster says, smiling with all his teeth, “don’t you want to dance, dance with somebody?”

If Holster didn’t have two inches and twenty pounds on him, Dex would threaten to kick his ass.

“Don’t you want to feel the heat with somebody?” Ransom chimes in.

“Don’t you want to dance with somebody, with somebody who loves you?” Bitty adds, and immediately goes pink. Traitor.

Nurse ignores them all to stare at Dex. His eyes are very green, and it’s disconcerting. “Just think about it, Poindexter,” he says, voice quieter. Then he winks, turns to Bitty and says, “I could give you dance lessons, too, if you need to woo any handsome young men.”

“No, no, no. No wooing,” Bitty says, shaking his head vigorously. Dex is impressed that he can become even redder. “Dancing all proper is no fun, anyway.”

Mock-affront is written all over Nursey’s face. “Excuse you, ballroom dance can be awesome if you find the right partner.”

“It’s true,” Holster says, shrugging. “My brother used to do competitive ballroom at Harvard–”

“Fuck Harvard,” everyone else choruses.

“And he really loved it,” Holster finishes, unperturbed. He and Nursey fistbump, and Dex tries fruitlessly to think of a way to change the topic of conversation. “I’m just saying, ballroom can be fun. Also, the ladies are super into it.”

Dex is lucky that he isn’t nearly drunk enough to say the first thing that pops into his head, which is that it isn’t really ‘the ladies’ he’s worried about. Lardo saves him by strolling up to their circle, yanking Ransom down to her eye level, and saying, “Tango’s lax bro friends are here, and our superiority at beer pong has been challenged.”

Ransom puts a hand on her shoulder, equally serious. “Then we must defend our championship in the only arena that matters,” he says, clenching his other fist.

“With copious amounts of PBR,” Holster finishes. “It’s the only way.”

“For honor and glory,” Nursey says, raising his beer.

With that, they go.

-

He wakes up with a killer hangover and a text from his sister that reads, “GUESS WHAT u know how I said u gotta bring someone 2 dance with”

He frowns, bleary-eyed, and types out, “i know you SAID i had to”

The response comes quickly enough that he suspects she’d already typed most of it out: “well u still have to BUT also ur dancing the father-daughter dance with me because dad just broke his ankle and nick will prob step on my toes on purpose. at least ull only do it by accident.”

Groaning, he types, “won’t dad’s ankle heal by june 11??”

He can hear Caroline’s eyeroll in her next text: “as if hes gonna take a break from work to let it heal. take it like a MAN lil bro, neway its just a basic waltz.”

Dex throws an arm over his eyes and goes back to sleep.

-

It’s nearing mid-April when Nursey walks into the Haus living room where Dex is killing time playing Call of Duty instead of studying.

“Hey, Dex, what should I get your sister as a wedding gift? My moms are soliciting my advice because I’m closer to the right age demographic,” he says, wrinkling his nose in a way that could not be considered adorable by anyone, ever, and least of all Dex. “Sort of. It’d still be from my whole family.”

“Doesn’t she have a registry? People do that for weddings, right?” Dex says. Truth be told, he hasn’t been paying close attention, though he probably should be. There’s only one Caroline Poindexter, and he wants her to be happy.

“She does, but it’s mostly home décor and stuff,” Nursey says. “I figured I’d ask since you’re her brother so you probably have a better idea.”

Dex hums, thinking. “She’s always been really into Star Wars,” he says. “I think if my mom hadn’t pushed for a traditional wedding, she might have convinced Brian to do a Star Wars themed one. I don’t know if that helps, but that’s what I’ve got.”

Nursey lights up. “Thanks, man, I actually have a brilliant idea now,” he says.

“That’s a terrifying phrase coming out of your mouth,” Dex says. “What’s the idea?”

Nursey thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “I guess as long as you don’t tell her, it’s fine – I saw this awesome knife block shaped like an X-Wing on ThinkGeek the other day,” he says. “It was amazing. Someone should have it, and I know I’m never gonna convince my moms to buy it for me.”

“Huh,” Dex says. “That’s actually pretty good.”

“Glad you can let go of your pride enough to recognize that I am, occasionally, a clever person who thinks of great gifts,” Nursey says.

“Shocking, but true,” Dex says. “Maybe if you stop talking now you won’t ruin it.”

“Speaking of brilliant ideas,” Nursey says, proving that he listens to Dex exactly never, “my offer of dance lessons still stands. You’ve only got a couple months, right? Don’t you want to be the most attractive dude in the wedding party? Besides, I’ve been wanting to take advantage of my card access to Courante’s practice space in Calton, may as well be for a good cause.”

Dex narrows his eyes. “Why do you have access to Courante’s practice rooms?” he asks. “Actually, I probably don’t want to know.”

“A friend of mine is in it, and I almost joined so they gave me access,” Nursey says. “Hockey eats too much time, though.” He grins. “But if it helps you sleep better at night, you can imagine a more licentious reason for me to have access.”

Dex sighs. “I’m doing the father-daughter dance with Caroline because our dad broke his ankle a few weeks ago,” he says. “Is that gonna be one that requires steps, or whatever?”

“I mean, if you want to get shown up by everyone else, then you can just do the swaying thing.”

“It’ll be a room full of people who earn more in a week than everyone in my family combined earns in a year, I think I’ll get shown up no matter what I do,” Dex points out.

Nursey’s eyes skitter away from his. “Not necessarily. A basic box-step makes up for a lot of sins.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Nursey says, nodding. “So, dance lessons. It’s happening. You free Thursday night?”

Dex tries and fails to verbalize his agreement because he’s thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong, and ends up just staring at Nursey for a while like a deer in headlights. He didn’t expect it to be – so soon. Or to happen at all, really.

“Chill, Dex, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” Nursey says, clearly seeing the trepidation on his face.

Dex hates it when Nursey’s features go all soft with concern. Frankly, it’s terrible. “I have to,” he says. “Otherwise my sister will shame me into an early grave.”

“Well, we def can’t have that,” Nursey says. “Thursday at 8 in Calton?”  

Dex nods, and Nursey wanders away. Maybe he’ll be lucky and break a bone before then so he can avoid the whole thing completely.

-

He’s standing in front of the music building on Thursday and shivering in the spring chill, willing himself to go in. The past three hours have been spent trying to convince himself that this isn’t a horrible idea, with limited success.

He finally steels himself and pushes the door open to a blast of warmer air. Courante’s studio is in the basement, tucked into the warren of music practice rooms, so he heads downstairs. Nursey had texted him earlier and said it was room 015.

He gets there and Nursey is already inside, wearing all black and stretching with one leg on the barre. Honestly, Dex didn’t sign up for this.

“Didn’t know we were doing ballet,” Dex says.

“We’re not doing anything strenuous, Poindexter, don’t you worry,” Nursey says. “But it never hurts to stretch, and I’m sore from lift this morning.”

He puts his leg down, and holds out a hand. Dex eyes it suspiciously, and Nursey rolls his eyes. “I’m not gonna bite,” he says. “I’ll be the shorter partner, because you’ll prob be dancing with beautiful women who in all likelihood will be shorter than your six-foot-two.”

“My sister is almost six foot,” Dex says.

“Still shorter than you,” Nursey says. He gestures impatiently, and Dex takes his hand. “Other hand, dumbass. Your left, my right.”

Dex scowls and switches hands. Nursey nods. “I’m not gonna start us on music until next week, so I’ll show you the steps and we can do a few practice boxes.” He takes Dex’s other hand and moves it to his own back, just under his shoulderblade, and steps closer, putting his own free hand on Dex’s shoulder.

“Is this really necessary?” Dex asks, self-preservation instincts belatedly and uselessly kicking in. He can feel the warmth of Nursey’s chest against his own and it’s fucking him up.

“So much whining,” Nursey says. “Here. Now you step forward with your left foot, then forward and to the side with your right foot, then meet it with your left.” Dex does it, and Nursey matches him. “Now, back with your right, back and side with your left, meet it with your right. Nice!”

“How many times are you supposed to do this?”

“Well, there are other movements you can try, but for now, you should stick with the box. Here, I’ll count us off,” Nursey says, and begins a soft, slow one-two-three count.

Dex fucks up the first three on the count, but then he gets it and they make several boxes.

“I feel like an idiot,” he says. Also, like he needs to get out of here and take a cold shower, stat. Nursey wearing all black and moving fluidly like this is – a lot.

“That’s because you’re not letting yourself feel the beat,” Nursey says, because he’s a douchebag.

“There is no beat, you’re not playing any music,” Dex says.

“Shut up, just listen to the count,” Nursey says, and resumes the numbers, more firmly.

They do enough boxes that Dex loses himself in the pattern. Nursey’s movements are smooth and calm.

“How is this happening,” Dex mumbles. “You’re so clumsy at literally everything else you do.” It’s barely a lie. There’s only one other time when Nursey is full of preternatural grace – when he’s on the ice.

“It’s just a box-step, dude,” Nursey says, amused. “It’s the simplest one.”

“Fuck off, Nurse,” Dex says, back on almost-familiar ground. “Not all of us had a private dance tutor starting from age five.”

“Rude,” Nursey says mildly. “You have me for the four weeks between now and finals, which is better than a private dance tutor from age five.”

“Unsubstantiated claims.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

-

The second week, Nursey graduates them to music in the background, which goes predictably wrong.

“You’re into dad rock, this should be easy for you,” Nursey says after Dex trips over his own feet for the fifth time. “Besides, it’s your band.”

Dex takes Nursey’s phone from where it’s perched on the barre, clicking it on to see that _The Waltz_ by Dexy’s Midnight Runners is what’s playing softly in the background.

He stares into space for a few seconds, then says, “I hate you so much.”

“You don’t,” Nursey sing-songs. They continue.

-

The third week goes a little better, even with the introduction of turning and moving around the floor. Dex only steps on Nursey’s toes once, and it’s because he keeps thinking about how steady Nursey’s hand is on his shoulder.

He’s always known his sin was greed, and he’s come to the conclusion that if the closest he gets to Nursey is these four one-hour-a-week sessions, he’ll take it and run.

The turns are a bit more difficult, especially since Nursey has taken to spinning without much warning, but Dex thinks he’s handling it with grace. Granted, as much grace as he’s capable of, given the fact that he’s close enough to smell Nursey’s aftershave.

The background music has become some weird indie rock – due to his sister’s high school music taste, Dex is pretty sure he’s hearing Death Cab for Cutie, but he can’t reveal that he knows because Nursey will chirp him into next year. Hour three, and he still needs to mentally distance himself so he doesn’t dwell too long on the ridge of Nursey’s shoulderblade or the soft upwards tilt of his mouth when Dex gets an entire song’s worth of box steps right. He just needs to make it through one more week after this.

“You’re a very quick learner,” Nursey says, pausing them.

I have sheer terror as a motivating factor, seeing as I don’t want to destroy our friendship by accidentally holding onto your hand for too long, Dex doesn’t say. He’d like to keep up all pretenses of not being fucking pathetic. “No need to sound shocked,” he says instead.

Nursey shrugs. “I’m not,” he says, watching Dex carefully. “You’re like that on the ice, too. You’re the one Ransom and Holster pitch all their weird new play ideas to, because they know you’re the only one who might make some of them work.”

“Thanks,” Dex says, surprised.

“For real,” Nursey says. “Don’t be so down on yourself, you have to be okay at spatial reasoning to make a hockey team.”

“Well,” Dex says, then can’t think of a single thing to follow it with. The grudging mutual respect they’ve cultivated since freshman year tends to go unspoken, but Nursey’s always been a little bit braver about that type of thing than he is.

Nursey looks away. “Anyway, more turns,” he says, a complicated expression that Dex can’t identify crossing his face. “You can’t get too used to me as a dance partner since soon you’ll be dancing with people of a pretty different size.”

Dex nods, walling off the ache in his chest produced by that thought.

-

The fourth week, Nursey dips him without warning, laughing when Dex almost falls but still making sure he doesn’t hit the ground. Then, he pronounces them finished, just in time for finals.

“You’re gonna charm the shit out of everyone,” Nursey says, letting him go. “As long as you don’t forget everything in the month that you won’t have my brilliant self to practice with.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dex says, and misses the warmth of Nursey against him.

Nursey smiles, a smaller echo of his usual shit-eating grin. “I’m always right, Dex, get with it.”

Dex sighs. “Of course. Can’t believe I forgot.”

-

Finals pass in a haze of studying and narrowly scraping by deadlines; Ransom and Holster have bequeathed the captaincy to Bitty, and Dex mostly spends his time in the Haus furiously coding and wolfing down the products of Bitty’s stress-baking.

Sometimes, Nursey joins him on the living room couch and works on his poetry final, chewing on pens and then sticking them into his hair and promptly forgetting about them only to repeat the process until he looks like a hedgehog. He also has the unfortunate habit of twining their legs together like it’s a reasonable and normal thing to do, because Nursey is totally unaware of the physical space he takes up, one hundred percent of the time.

The fourth time this happens, Dex can only manage a few minutes before he has to get up to take a walk and grab a Red Bull from the kitchen. Nursey is a distraction he can’t afford right now.

Dex is still impressed that he survived four hours of close contact without spontaneously combusting or throwing up.

He’s been gently thumping his forehead against the fridge for a few minutes when Bitty taps him on the shoulder and he gives a violent start.

“Sorry, Bitty,” he says. “You got the jump on me, I’ll clear out of here in a sec.”

Bitty frowns at him. “You know if you ever need to talk about anything, you can talk to me,” he says. He looks very serious. “Not just because I’m Captain now, but because I was your friend first.”

“I know, and thanks,” Dex says. He glances instinctively toward the living room. “I don’t think even you can solve this one, though, so don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

Bitty studies him for a while, head tilted. “Sometimes, these things turn out better than you think they will,” Bitty says. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dex lies through his teeth. If it were anyone else, he would have called bullshit and told them to fuck off, but he’s pathologically incapable of saying a single mean word to Bitty.

Bitty shakes his head. “All right, suit yourself,” he says. “There’s gonna be pie in a little while.”

“Thanks, Bits,” Dex says.

Bitty stands on his tiptoes to reach up and pat the top of Dex’s head. “Everything will be okay, just trust me,” he says.

Dex goes back to the couch, where Nursey wordlessly folds his legs up so Dex can get comfortable, then neatly slots them back together. Dex resigns himself to the faint pressure of calves against his own and trains his eyes on his laptop screen, away from the pink of Nursey’s tongue where it’s peeking out of his mouth as he concentrates.

-

After finals end and they all go home, June 11th approaches with alarming speed – Dex picks up a few days on the lobster boat but mostly does freelance software work from various out-of-the-way Portland coffeeshops. He makes more money doing that than he really anticipated or is familiar with seeing in his bank account, since $15 an hour is twice what he gets as minimum wage on the boat, so he puts most aside for paying back his loans.

His house is a whirlwind of wedding planning – Caroline and Brian live in Portland proper, and Dex ends up acting as a shuttle service pretty often so that his mom can yell at Caroline in person rather than over the phone.

The SMH ’15-‘16 groupchat tapers off, though Holster still sends at least one meme a day. He didn’t feel it last year when he was home for the summer, but this year, it’s a bit – lonely, even with Caroline asking his opinion on every single wedding-related thing because he’s apparently ‘the only Poindexter male with a modicum of taste.’ If Nursey were here, he’d laugh his ass off at the idea of Dex having taste.

Admittedly, he didn’t really expect the loneliness.

He gets a FaceTime call from Nursey after a week and a half, and he gets hit by a wave of some kind of relief that he doesn’t want to inspect too closely. They’ve texted back and forth a few times, but they’ve both been too busy with their respective jobs to Skype or anything; Nursey is interning at some sort of arts magazine in the city.

“Hey, Dexy,” Nursey says. The camera is tilted up, and he’s moving through what looks like a grocery store. Dex can hear a rattling noise – probably a cart.

“Your face looks really ugly from this angle,” Dex says.

Nursey spares one unimpressed glance for the screen. “Excuse you, my face looks beautiful from all angles,” he says. Sadly, this is a fact. “Anyway, I called to ask about that roast chicken you and Bitty made that one time, where’d you get the recipe? It seemed easy and I wanted to make something for my moms’ anniversary and I can’t just pass off a rotisserie chicken as homemade. Again.”

Dex rolls his eyes and scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, it wasn’t really a recipe, just something my gram does,” he says. “It’s pretty easy.”

“I burn everything I touch,” Nursey says mournfully, widening his eyes for dramatic effect.

“Drama queen,” Dex says, without any heat. “Anyway, if you make the chicken and then serve it with red wine and some sort of fancy salad or whatever healthy fresh shit you’re used to eating, that’s a totally respectable meal. Which requires minimal cooking, so you probably won’t burn down your expensive apartment.”

“I don’t know how to make a salad. Why would you suggest salad? You know that my prep skills end at boiling water for pasta.”

Somewhere, Bitty was just overcome with the urge to cry and couldn’t pinpoint a reason. “Salad doesn’t require any prep,” Dex says. “You literally just chop things up and put them together in a big bowl. You’re trying to cook a whole chicken, how is salad the more daunting thing here?”

“Vegetables are horrible. You gotta use knives and pick the right kind of vegetables that match each other and all that shit. Chicken, I can just stick in the oven and it’s done.”

“My confidence in your ability to not destroy your kitchen is low and only getting lower,” Dex says, then hesitates before adding, “But if you really want, I can talk you through it.”

Nursey whoops in victory, turning several heads in the direction of the camera. “You’re the best, Dexy,” Nursey says. “Knew you’d come through. Just tell me what to buy, I’m at Fairway right now.”

Dex rolls his eyes again but does it, arguing about the merits of fruit in salad all the way from the cashier to Nursey’s front door. Must be nice to have unlimited data.

To get to his floor, Nursey takes a tiny metal cage elevator that was probably a feat of engineering a century ago, and now looks like a death trap even through the phone screen. His apartment is – smaller than what Dex would have expected, but he supposes you take what you can get when you live on East 72nd. The kitchen is modern, and it’s exceptionally clean, especially when he mentally compares it to Nursey’s dorm room, which had been perpetually littered with stacks of books and papers.

“Apartment tour,” Nursey declares, and shows him each of the rooms as Dex tries not to feel like he’s seeing things he shouldn’t be allowed to see.

He thinks the socially-polite thing to do would be to tell Nursey he has a lovely home, but Nursey will just scoff at him. He has to already know that he’s lucky as hell.

“Anyway,” Nursey says at last. “My moms are coming home in an hour. Is that enough time?”

“Oh my god,” Dex says. “Turn the oven on preheat _now_.”

-

After that, Nursey FaceTimes or calls him without any real warning every few days, always asking questions he could probably ask someone else and receive a better answer to. Dex doesn’t want to examine why. He doesn’t want to break whatever fragile thing Nursey might be building between them. They’ve never been the kind of friends who call each other for mundane shit, but it’s – nice. It fills his chest with warmth.

“So,” Nursey says, drawing out the word into several syllables. “You practicing your dance moves for whatever hot date you found?”

“Oh, fuck,” Dex says. How the fuck did he forget Caroline’s threats? She’s going to chirp him until he dies if he doesn’t have a date and the wedding is in a week.

“What is it?” Nursey asks.

Dex doesn’t answer, rifling through his very limited mental catalog of girls from high school he still talks to that he could conceivably convince to come with him to a wedding at Brian’s family’s ‘second country estate,’ or whatever. He can think of maybe two, and one of them is in California doing marine research. He hasn’t talked to the other in months. He’s fucked.

You’ll prob be dancing with beautiful women, Nursey’s most obnoxious voice says in his head. Unlikely.

“You still there? Hey, Dex, are you okay?” Nursey says, concern coloring his voice. “Dex, Will, come on, talk to me.”

Dex clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Chill, Nursey,” he says, relishing it a little. “I’m fine. Just remembered that I haven’t actually found a plus-one for the wedding yet so Caroline’ll make fun of me until the end of times.”

A crash, and then static on the other end. “Nurse?” Dex says, mildly worried.

“All good,” Nursey says, sounding a bit out of breath. “Just fell out of my chair a little. Only a bit.”

Dex puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know how you survived past adolescence,” he says.

“Me neither, T-B-H,” Nursey says, then goes quiet for a few moments. He sounds weirdly cautious when he begins again. “You know, if you really need to give Caroline someone’s name so she won’t mock you forever, you could use me. My name, I mean. You could say I’m your plus one. If you want.”

There is no universe where Derek Nurse offering to be his emergency date makes any sense, so Dex has a wild moment where he thinks he’s hallucinated the entire conversation.

“I mean, obviously, you don’t have to, but I was gonna go stag, and–” Nursey says quickly.

Dex cuts him off. “That would actually be – really awesome,” he says, trying to steer them towards known territory. “That’s really nice of you, Nurse. Didn’t know you had the kindness in your heart.”

Nursey huffs. Equilibrium is regained. “Please, Poindexter, as if anyone who wasn’t an amazing person could put up with your pain-in-the-ass self on the same hockey team,” he says.

Sometimes, Nursey is a horribly good person. “Of course not,” Dex says.

Problem solved, he thinks. His parents will just be happy he came with a friend, since Dex is pretty sure they exist in a state of pleasant obliviousness to the possibility of anyone in the Poindexter family being less than entirely straight. It must be nice.

-

The rehearsal dinner, in contrast to the wedding, is a pretty small affair. Brian’s parents had apparently wanted it to be a bigger thing, but Caroline had put her foot down and said they could just use the picnic tables outside the glass pavilion where the reception will be.

They’ve driven out to the ranch house – and who buys a ranch house in Maine, Dex will never understand – and will stay there for the night before the wedding; it belongs to one of Brian’s uncles who’s ‘big on the fashion photography scene.’ It’s unofficially Dex’s job to talk Caroline out of any minor breakdowns, because he’s the most level-headed Poindexter sibling aside from his younger sister, but Rachel is busy drilling the bridesmaids.

Nursey would dissolve into hysterics if he ever knew that Dex considered himself level-headed, but Nursey won’t be here until tomorrow.

“I’m going to have to kill every single person there if anything goes wrong,” Caroline says bleakly, staring into the middle distance.

“Don’t,” Dex says. “No death. Only happy thoughts.”

Caroline turns her glare onto him. “Every. Single. Person,” she says, then closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “You’re right. Everything will be fine.”

This is the fifth time they’ve had this exchange in the past hour. “Everything will be fine,” Dex agrees.

“So,” Caroline says. “This Derek-Nurse-from-Andover character with the two moms. What’s his deal? Brian said his cousins really hate the Nurses and therefore that we should definitely invite them, and then you slip him under my radar as your plus-one.”

“I couldn’t find anyone else to come with me,” Dex says. It’s not a lie just because he panicked and didn’t try very hard. “And he was already invited, so.” He knows his fingers are gripping the armrests too tightly, but he needs the stability.

“Why do Brian’s asshole cousins hate him?”

Dex snorts. “There could be a lot of reasons,” he says. “He’s kind of the worst. He doesn’t take anything seriously, ever. Also, he’s clumsy and he’s a rich snob.”

“They’re rich snobs, too, though.”

“Then probably they hate him because he still manages to be better and better-looking than pretty much everyone else in the world without even really trying,” Dex says before actually processing the words, then freezes.

Caroline hums. “Relax, little bro. It’s okay if you’re into him,” she says. “I’m not about to tell Mom and Dad.”

He lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Or maybe it’s the two moms thing,” he says.

“Maybe,” Caroline says. She sighs. “Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m using this opportunity to say something that you’re not allowed to make fun of me for because it’s the day before my wedding and I’m emotional,” she says. “But here goes: I love you no matter what and I want you to be happy, okay?”

Dex ducks his head and shoves down the knot in his throat. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks, Caroline.”

-

He doesn’t actually see Nursey until he’s standing in the bridal party and waiting as his dad walks Caroline down the aisle at a slow and dignified pace, with a cane still aiding his steps.

Nursey is in the third row with two well-dressed women who are presumably his moms, smiling one of the more honest smiles Dex has ever seen on his face. Of course Nursey is someone who secretly loves weddings. Of course Nursey is someone who looks like he belongs in a tuxedo. Of course.

Nursey meets his eyes, smile turning into something more familiar, more on the verge of elation after a game, and Dex grins helplessly back. His sister’s getting married.

The ceremony proceeds without a hitch, and Dex zones out a bit until he makes his toast at the reception and sits down. Nursey is seated next to him, providing a constant litany of disparaging comments about the outfits of the Greene side’s guests. Dex is unbearably grateful for the grounding effects.

After the first course of tiny gourmet foods, Caroline and Brian have their first dance to the tune of _Stay Young, Go Dancing_ , because Caroline apparently never grew out of her Death Cab phase. Dex may actually tear up a little bit. Nursey says nothing, because much as Dex would like to deny it, he’s a pretty good person.

Then, it’s Dex’s turn – Nursey clasps his shoulder as he stands. “Break a leg,” he murmurs. “Don’t trip over the gown.”

Shocking though it may be, Dex manages to get through most of _You’ve Got the Heart of a Star_ without stepping on Caroline’s toes more than once, counting his blessings that the song isn’t hideously long.

“I’m glad your boyfriend taught you how to dance,” Caroline says as they spin.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dex says.

“I’m glad a nice young man taught you how to dance,” Caroline says, grinning. She’s so happy that he’s a little appalled.

He honestly hopes that one day he’ll be that happy for even five minutes. “I don’t think anyone who knew him would consider Nursey ‘a nice young man,’” Dex says.

“He looks like one to me,” Caroline says, then goes quiet. Then, in a move Dex only manages not to fuck up because of all Nursey’s attempts to catch him off-guard, she lifts their linked hands and spins as he steps carefully around her.

“Have mercy,” Dex says. “Just because you’re getting married doesn’t mean you have a free bully-your-longsuffering-younger-brother-through-dance card.”

“You’re doing fine,” Caroline says airily. “Also, you agreed to this, which you didn’t have to.”

“You just told me ‘you’re doing this.’ You didn’t give me a choice,” Dex says, narrowing his eyes.

“Hm, I guess maybe I didn’t,” Caroline says. Dex is surrounded by people who want to cause him pain.

They step to a finish just as Brian and his mother do, and Brian’s brother calls everyone else to the dancefloor as a new song starts. Dex gladly relinquishes his sister to Brian and wanders off to find the alcohol he’d been too nervous to drink earlier.

“You made it through,” Nursey says, offering a fistbump when Dex makes his way back to their table. “Congrats, bro.”

Dex knocks their knuckles together. “Thanks. You were, weirdly, pretty helpful.”

Nursey scoffs. “Duh,” he says. “Anyway, you’re welcome. You gonna go back to the dancefloor?”

“Nah, not yet. I want to eat and avoid mingling for as long as possible,” Dex says, accidental honesty striking again.

“Fair enough,” Nursey says. “My moms are doing that so I don’t really have to, although there are a few unfortunates here who knew me in high school.”

Dex laughs a little. “What was high school Nursey like?”

Nursey leans back in his chair, puts on a mock-deep-in-thought expression. “Emo,” he says at last.

This is delightful new information, though Dex probably should have guessed. “Sad young Derek Nurse mooning over Hayley Williams,” he says. “I can see it now.”

“Okay, first of all, the fact that you know who Hayley Williams is disqualifies you from judging me right now. Anyway, it was more like Brendon Urie. And Pete Wentz. Also, besides being emo, I was gross and pimply and super into astrology.”

“Everyone was gross and pimply in high school,” Dex offers. He takes a long drink of his wine. “Can’t excuse the astrology, though.”

“No,” Nursey says sadly, then goes alert, looking over to the other corner of the pavilion. “Oh, shit, they’re cutting the cake. Aren’t you supposed to be taking pics?”

“They have an actual photographer,” Dex says, but he gets up. “Caroline just asked me to take some shittier-quality ones for the authenticity.”

Nursey stands as well, stretching. Dex tears his eyes from the way Nursey’s suit jacket folds at his shoulders when he moves.

“Do you know what kind of cake it is?” Nursey asks.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Belgian chocolate,” Dex says. “My sister is a chocolate fiend.”

“That’s the good shit,” Nursey says.

Brian and Caroline have already cut the cake, but Dex manages to get a picture of Caroline lifting the fork to Brian’s mouth. It’s – pretty excessive. Wedding traditions are so bizarre.

Then, Caroline claps her hands to get everyone’s attention and takes the mic from Brian’s brother. “We weren’t originally going to do this tradition, but we figured, may as well. You only get married once, right?” she asks, to polite chuckles from the guests, and returns the mic.

“If all the single gentlemen could please stand to one side,” Brian’s brother says.

Oh no, Dex thinks. Caroline won’t get a honeymoon, because their mom is going to _kill her_.

Caroline hikes her skirt up just past her knee, and Brian kneels to take off her garter – thank God he’s not doing it with his teeth. It’s a pretty quick process; Dex thinks mostly they’re doing it to satisfy the rich traditionalists in the audience. Ergo, Brian’s entire extended family.

There’s a ten-second countdown to the garter toss, and it goes wide, landing directly in the upstretched hand of none other than Derek Malik Nurse.

“Oh, shit,” Nursey says, eyes going comically wide as he turns to Dex. “I didn’t even mean to catch it. Way too much time drilling with Chowder.”

Dex starts laughing. “I can’t believe this,” he says. “Of course you caught it by accident.”

Nursey huffs. “Laugh it up,” he says, sticking his tongue out. “This is good luck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dex says, shoving him lightly. “Go get me another drink, since there’s no good luck happening for me tonight.”

Nursey shoves him back, but goes.

Dex fiddles with his phone and snaps some pictures of Brian and Caroline standing with their heads together. They look like they’re conferring about something, but their mouths aren’t moving. Married people are always conferring without really talking.

“And now,” Brian’s brother says, “all the single ladies should stand to the other side, please.”

The countdown to Caroline’s bouquet toss begins, but Rachel catches Dex’s eye and beckons him over from where he’s snapping pictures off to the side.

“Will, it looks like your friend is about to get punched in the face,” she hisses at him as the numbers get lower. “He’s by the left side wine bar–”

At that moment, the bouquet hits Dex’s head and he instinctively reaches up a hand to grab it – ‘too much time drilling with Chowder’ was right. The gathering of people around them makes a collective high pitched noise, and he flushes, thrusting the flowers into Rachel’s hands.

“Here, take this, I’ll handle Nurse,” he says, and walks quickly toward the open bar, where he can see Nursey with his hands raised in placation. Another man, middle-aged and bright red in the face, is standing across from him. There’s an enormous crimson wine stain down the front of the guy’s formerly-white shirt.

Dex’s brother catches him before he gets there, grabbing his arm. “I’m pretty sure your boy just executed the most perfectly-timed check I’ve ever seen off the ice, and if he hadn’t, I would’ve almost definitely punched that dickhead,” Nick says, voice pitched not to carry. “In the throat.”

“What the fuck happened?” Dex asks.

“Well, that guy over there,” Nick says, sliding his eyes to the red-faced man and back. “Said he hoped they signed a pre-nup, because our family was ‘a bunch of gold-diggers,’ and before I took even one step closer, Derek tripped and knocked him into the bar, and then spilled an entire glass of wine on him.”

Dex – doesn’t even know where to begin with that information or the tightness in his chest that springs from it. He walks forward, puts a hand on Nursey’s shoulder.

“He’s ruined my shirt!” the other man says, jabbing a finger into Nursey’s chest. He turns to Dex. “You, aren’t you the brother of the bride? Please escort this man off the premises, he’s exhibited violent behavior. He pushed me into the wine table and practically poured his glass on me!”

“It was an accident,” Nursey says, sounding like he’s saying it for the eighteenth time. The apologetic look on his face isn’t particularly convincing.

“I apologize for my friend, he’s a clumsy idiot,” Dex says, tightening his grip on Nursey’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”

“I demand he be evicted! He’s assaulted me!”

“I’m sure it was just an accident,” Dex says, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“It was certainly _not_ an accident, he’s a brute!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Nursey says loudly. Then, he leans in really close to the man, and says, low enough that only Dex is within hearing range, “You can’t prove anything, scum. But really, classism _and_ racism at such a lovely wedding? You keep reaching for the top of that shit mountain. Stick a flag in it when you get there.”

The guy sputters, and is definitely about to hit Nursey in the face, when Dex manages to tug him away. “Sorry, sir,” Dex calls over his shoulder, dragging Nursey with him away from the bar.

“I’ll get that guy out of here,” says Nick as he walks by. Dex nods.

Luckily, most people are on the dance floor and haven’t noticed the scene, and they’re able to make an escape into one of the unlit fields behind the pavilion. It must be calmer in the daylight, but now it’s breezy and he can hear the strains of cicadas around them.

Nursey is silent, having shaken off Dex’s leading hand. He’s looking up at the sky and doesn’t meet Dex’s eyes, so Dex just watches him watching the clouds. It’s not quite dark enough yet to see the stars.

“You did that on purpose,” Dex says eventually, brooking no argument.

Nursey shrugs. They keep walking, further and further out into the less well-kept side of the field.

“That wine probably cost the same as a semester at Samwell,” Dex says.

“Prob a little bit less, but it was pretty good wine, yeah,” Nursey says.

They go quiet. The music is still playing behind them, the lights casting their bodies and the trees into long shadows.

“Hey, Nurse,” Dex says, finding his footing in the dark. “What you did back there – my sister probably didn’t appreciate the commotion, but, uh, it was pretty – chill.”

Nursey snorts. “It really, really wasn’t,” he says.

“No,” Dex agrees. “It wasn’t. But it was awesome.”

Nursey chuckles a bit, and then starts laughing harder until it’s the kind of laughter that can’t be stopped until it’s over, and Dex can’t help but join him. “Holy shit,” Nursey says. “You should’ve seen his _face_ when I poured that wine on him. Oh my god, it was amazing.”

“I wish I’d been there for that, except I probably would’ve punched him, and that would’ve ended badly,” Dex admits.

Nursey waves him off. “Your brother was about to. Didn’t want there to be a fistfight on your sister’s big day,” he says.

They lapse into silence. The wind drags Nursey’s curls in different directions. It’s incredibly distracting.

“Hey,” Dex says, waits for Nursey to turn and face him. “Thanks.” He darts in and hugs Nursey for a moment before letting go and stepping back to a distance which doesn’t exacerbate his heart palpitations so much.

Nursey looks too stunned by the spontaneous display of affection to even chirp him for the way his cheeks are burning, so Dex clears his throat and continues, “Come on, we should head back.”

When they step back into the pavilion, the music tapers off. Nick is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Nursey’s newfound enemy. Dex will have to thank his brother for the wrangling.

“Pick partners, everyone, the next one will be slow,” Brian says into the mic, then hands it to Caroline.

“Since we did the traditional bouquet and garter tosses, we’ll also be following another tradition tonight – the person who caught the bouquet will be dancing with the person who caught the garter,” says Caroline, unholy glee suffusing her features. She’s staring at Dex and grinning wildly.

“Oh, Christ,” Dex says.

“Who caught the bouquet?” Nursey asks, bemused.

“Tonight, Mr. Derek Nurse caught the garter, and through a complicated series of events, my very own brother, William Poindexter, caught the bouquet,” Caroline says, and gestures to the floor, where most other people have already paired up. “Gentlemen, if you please.”

If God existed, Dex thinks it would be a pretty great time to cause a miracle and let the floor open up and swallow him. He can feel himself turning scarlet.

He turns, and Nursey is holding out a hand, but he’s laughing with his eyes. Clearly, he’s recovered from – whatever that was, outside.

“Look on the bright side, they’re not making me put the garter on you. It’s just one dance,” Nursey says. “Like we practiced.”

Dex steels himself against imagining anything even remotely close to Nursey sliding a garter up his leg. “If it’ll make my sister happy,” he says, and puts his hand in Nursey’s as _Go Places_ begins. Caroline had sat on him until he listened to her weird indie rock playlists in high school and now they’re drummed into his memory.

“Remember, you’re leading,” Nursey says, as they step out onto the floor and the music begins.

“I don’t even know how to follow,” Dex says.

“Nobody would ever accuse you of knowing that,” Nursey murmurs, and they’re off.

It’s much easier than it had been with Caroline; he’s used to this, with Nursey. Nursey is confident, and not wearing six-inch heels, and his hand is familiar in Dex’s.

Dex thinks the rest of his family must find it as hilarious as Caroline undoubtedly does, albeit probably for very different reasons.

“I don’t think I’ve said this yet, but you look amazing tonight,” Nursey says after they’ve spun around the floor several times.

He can’t possibly be serious – it has to be a chirp. “Sorry I don’t model on the side, unlike some people,” Dex says, gathering the willpower for an eyeroll.

“I’m serious. The cufflinks are a really nice touch.”

Dex deflates. Maybe he is serious. “Thanks. They’re my brother’s. I guess I scrub up okay,” he says, and coughs a little bit. “Although we all had to wear pretty much the same thing, since it’s formal.”

“Dex,” Nursey says, tiny smile on his lips. Dex is finding it – very difficult to breathe normally. “I know this is going to be hard to hear because you’re allergic to emotions, but you could’ve worn jeans and a hoodie and you still would’ve been the only person here I wanted to look at.”

He swallows and has the absurd thought that they’re close enough that Nursey has to feel the way his heart is pounding right now.

“I called you and not Bitty to ask about _cooking_ something,” Nursey prompts, as if that’s supposed to tell him something.

“I thought you just wanted my gram’s recipe,” Dex says feebly.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I resent that. I resent you.”

Nursey’s smile gets bigger. “You don’t,” he says.

“I really, really don’t,” Dex says. He’s so weak.

The song is almost over. “If I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it would scandalize the majority of people here, I would definitely kiss you right now,” Nursey says.

“I think two guys dancing together is about the extent of the scandal they can take,” Dex says.

Nursey gets this look on his face that makes Dex dread finding out whatever is going through his head. “I’m gonna dip you,” Nursey says. “Push the envelope a little.”

“Do not dip me, Nurse,” Dex says. “I will be very angry.”

“I’ve had worse. Also, too late,” Nursey says, and Dex has to move backwards so they don’t collide as Nursey steps forwards, and he has to trust Nursey to hold him up. It’s better than their practice run. He dimly thinks he can hear Caroline losing her shit in the background as the song ends, but the world has narrowed to their breathing and the space between them that has dwindled abruptly to zero.

Nursey pulls him back up, grinning wildly.

“I hate you so much right now,” Dex says.

“You really, really don’t,” Nursey says.

Dex grimaces.

“It’s okay, I really, really don’t hate you, too,” Nursey says, pushing him off the dancefloor and towards the tables. He pauses, as if weighing something, then lifts his chin and continues, “In fact, I’m kind of stupidly into you, in a totally unchill sort of way.”

“You know,” Dex says. “I can probably work with that.” He’s given up on fighting the ridiculous happiness that threatens to appear on his face.

Nursey hums. “Could you work with finding somewhere to make out on this hundred-acre ranch before our relatives come to look for us?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dex says. “Yes.”

“Yes I said yes I will yes,” Nursey says, pitched low as he tugs him away.

“I hope you’ve never quoted Joyce at anyone else as a seduction tactic before,” Dex says, glancing around to make sure that nobody’s noticing as they make their escape back to the field. Caroline seems to have distracted everyone with an improvised semi-scandalous tango with Brian.

“Don’t worry, only for you,” Nursey says, green eyes as serious as Dex has ever seen them. Then, they crinkle at the edges, and he adds, “Bonus points for knowing it was Joyce.”

“ _Bonus points._ You’re such an asshole.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately,” Dex says, “I kind of do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Miscellaneous notes for the curious: [Stay Young, Go Dancing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFW2ZlyVXEw), [(You've Got) the Heart of a Star](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjVryJgmZEI), and [Go Places](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yBo2qEzyHzE). And, of course, [The Waltz by Dexy's Midnight Runners](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qOkarsZ4jc). Yelling "fuck Harvard" at any mention of Harvard is a venerable liberal arts college tradition (I would know; I went to a liberal arts college). The knife block shaped like an X-wing is [real](http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/1f9c/), and it is well within "very nice wedding gift for your nerdy friends" price range. All knowledge of dancing and weddings has been gleaned from Google, with the exception of knowing which songs one can waltz to, as that was a result of combing through my Spotify account. 
> 
> Find me [here](http://keensers.tumblr.com) on tumblr and ask me questions about what was on Nursey's dancing lessons playlist and/or what was going through Nursey's head at any given time in this fic (probably something like 'oh god oh god oh god'). Thanks for reading!


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